


A Court of Bone and Shadow

by Michael2scott2



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Eventual Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Mates, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-28 16:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael2scott2/pseuds/Michael2scott2
Summary: Azriel knew shadow, knew darkness, knew pain.  They trailed him in life, whispered to him and were his constant companion.  But this strange, foreign female, she pushed them back and sent them away.  She was light and hope.  She was Made.  Maybe just for him.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 24
Kudos: 45





	1. Cauldron Made

The tang of the blood hit his nose before he even saw it. His heart sped up at the smell, the fear coating his mouth and pulling in the shadows. He had to protect her. Without Feyre, they failed. And Rhysand… he did not want to think of what his brother would do without his mate. 

Azriel stalked forward, more of that horrid scent of blood filling his nose as he took hold of Feyre’s arm. He felt it as soon as he touched her, that hollowing darkness, life, chaos, ruin. He wanted to rip his hand away, to run from it, but he had to help her. He needed to stop this. He needed-

The blood flowed, dribbling down her pale lips. She would die. This would kill her. 

There was a tug, pulling on him, between his ribs and he was sure the Cauldron was going to kill him. It pulled, yanking so hard he was sure it was going to rip his insides out. And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was done. 

He ripped Feyre back, away from that damned thing. She stumbled back, her whole body shuddering as she finally broke away from that overwhelming power. He shook her, calling her name, praying to the Mother that it had not broken her. Her eyes finally cleared, her mind seeming to come back to her body. He could see her, reality coming crashing down on her. 

He felt that tug again, low and deep within his chest, drawing his attention back to the Cauldron. To those black, bottomless depths that held both the beginning and the ending. He stared, confusion and fear flickering in his chest as he saw that water ripple, shift. Had Feyre done it? 

Dark, horrible power shot out then, blasting them all back. Azriel slammed into the wall behind him, a roar of pain erupting from him when he felt part of his left wing snap as it hit the stone at the wrong angle. His head cracked against the bricks, disorienting him for a moment before he was able to pull himself back. It was a horrible, awful pain, but if there was one thing he knew how to handle, it was pain. He had learned that from an early age. 

The door slid open behind then, casting him and the others in pale fae light. A figure stood against the light and even though he was cast in shadow, only his silhouette, Azriel recognized that figure. That cocky, horrible human that he had seen on the battle field all those years ago. Jurian. 

Jurian smiled, swaggering down the stairs, but he wasn’t looking at them. He stared only at the Cauldron, those dark, angry eyes staring hungrily at the depths within. “What have you done?” He whispered, drawing closer to it. 

There was a gasp and the water of the Cauldron splattered, splashing over the edge as a figure emerged from the depths, flailing and grasping for the edges. Azriel felt that tug again as she rose, pale and wild. Jurian laughed as she fell from the edge of the Cauldron, her breathe rasping as she struggled on the ground, naked and scared.  
“Well,” Jurian purred, stopping as he stood before the small, sputtering female, his eyes lit with dark delight. She stared back, dazed and confused, her terror coating Azriel’s mouth with a nasty taste. “Would you look at that?” 

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“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” 

Lyra shouldered her purse, glancing back to find Margret watching her, that familiar look of motherly worry etched into her face as she twisted the rag in her hands nervously. Lyra gave her a reassuring smile, that familiar feeling of warmth flickering in her chest at her coworkers concern. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s just a couple blocks.” 

“It’s freezing, sweetheart. If you just wait a bit-“ 

“I swear Margret, I’ll be fine.” She assured her, fishing her phone from her purse before she inched closer to the door. “I gotta get back and study. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Have a good night, then. And te-“ 

“Text you when I get home.” She finished, flashing another amused smile toward her before waving and opening the door. “See you later, Margret.” 

The cold hit her, seeping into her bones and she pulled her coat tighter around her. It was dark, quiet as she headed toward her apartment. The night was clear and the sky open, revealing those twinkling stars above her. It was the perfect night to star gaze, to just sit and watch the night sky if it wasn’t freezing and she didn’t have so much studying to do. So much studying. 

She sighed, picking up her pace a bit. She had far to much to do to be admiring the night. 

She reached her apartment complex, quickly unlocking the front door and sighing in relief when the warm air hit her. She rubbed her hands together, trying to get some feeling back into her fingers as she headed toward her apartment. 

Her apartment door was in sight, just a couple of feet in front of her when the world slanted and she stumbled, knocking into the wall as her head spun. She gasped, her hand pressing against her stomach as she felt a horrible tug that made her queasy. Closing her eyes, she shook, fear threading its way into her veins. This sensation, the pull and the spinning of her head, it felt like nothing she had ever experienced. 

Just as quickly as it had started, it was over and left her shaking and scared. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking as her head slowly stopped spinning and the familiar sight of her apartment hallway sat before her. She took a steadying breathe, pushing herself up from the wall on unsteady legs. It was so quick, so sudden that for a moment she wondered if she had imagined the odd sensations. 

“Lyra?” 

She let out a breathe, turning to see Amara, the sweet, young girl from a couple doors down, watching her with worried eyes. She took a tentative step forward, her head tilting and her bright red hair falling over her shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

“I…” Lyra muttered, taking a deep breath and running her fingers over her stomach. There was an odd, hollow feeling there, like that tug had taken something from her. “I just… got dizzy.” She muttered, hoping the smile she put on her face was convincing. Amara continued to watch her, that worry still in her brown eyes as she pushed up her glasses. “I’m fine. Promise.” 

She was talking more to herself then Amara. She had to be alright, she could afford or have the time to go to the emergency room. 

“Are you sure? I can get my dad.” Amara offered, looking back a bit toward her door. Lyra quickly shook her head, putting on a brighter smile. 

“I’m okay. Thank you though.” She assured her, reaching her shaking fingers into her purse, and digging out her keys. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Go to bed, its late.” 

“Okay, mom.” Amara teased, rolling those brown eyes as she turned away from her. “Night, Lyra. Feel better.” 

“Night.” Lyra echoed, getting her door open and heading into her small apartment. She closed the door, leaning into a bit and took a steadying breathe. She ran her fingers over her stomach again, a flicker of fear running through her. What had just happened? She had been dizzy before, disoriented, but that feeling she had out there… it was like nothing she had ever experienced. It had come and gone so quickly though, leaving her with just that hollowness in her stomach. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, bringing her out of her worry. She looked at the screen, smiling faintly as she read Margret’s name across her screen. She opened the text and sure enough, just as she guessed, her coworker had asked her if she had gotten home alright. Texting back that she had just made it in and heading toward her room, she put away her purse and coat on her small kitchen table before heading toward her room. She knew she couldn’t tell Margret about the sudden onset of dizziness, knew it would only worry the older woman further. 

She was fine now, she assured herself. Just a weird dizzy spell, maybe from the cold or her walk home. It was fine. 

Lyra headed toward her bedroom, toward her pile of studying material awaiting her on the small desk shoved into the corner of her room. She changed into more comfortable clothes before heading to work with a tired sigh.

After studying for hours, she finally was able to crawl into her bed and fall into a fitful sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was her worry from school, the sudden dizziness from the night before or just general stress, but her sleep was filled with odd dreams. She didn’t remember it all, only flashes and bits, but it left her waking with an unsettling feeling. She remembered most a figure in shadow, far in the distance, pulling her closer and closer, but she never could reach them. Something also followed her through the darkness, a horrible, powerful presence that made fear quake along her bones. She never looked back at it, to scared of the looming, terrible feeling. 

She swore she could still feel it as she went throughout her day though, a whisper of something just behind her that disappeared just as she looked for it. If left her unsettled, jittery. 

Between little sleep the night before and an exhausting day of being on edge, she all but passed out on her bed as soon as she entered her room the next night. 

I see you. I found you. 

She gasped, her eyes flying open as that voice crawled along her bones, along her skin, making her shiver at the darkness and chaos it held. It echoed in her head, the words clanging around and before she could fully process what was happening, she was suddenly pulled under. 

She was drowning, alone and drowning in a never-ending darkness. Pain began burn beneath her skin, tearing at her as the black water seemed to seep into her. This pain was everywhere, setting her on fire and it was all going to kill her. She was sure of it and as that fire spread, she almost welcomed it. 

Something new. I see you. 

She screamed, but no sound came out, swallowed by those black depths. There was nothing in it but this pain and burning and that awful voice. Was this hell? 

Light and dark. Made and unmade. We will Make you, Lady of Life. 

Something pulled at her, pulled at her very soul and she felt as it led her upward, closer and closer to that voice. That awful voice, made of chaos and madness and delight. But it didn’t matter, she was going to die. This pain was going to kill her before she made it out. 

Something flickered in her vision, a tiny, little thread shimmering in front of her. She saw it glow brighter though her tear filled eyes and she reached for it, her pale hand shaking. It took everything in her, every bit of strength she had to grab onto it-

She was shoved through the surface of the water, sucking in air with a wild gasp as she tried to grasp at something, anything to pull herself out. She still burned, the fresh air like knives against her bare, naked skin. She reached blindly, her hand finding a cold, stone edge before she fell to the ground below her, that cold, horrible water splattering around her. She sucked in air, shaking as the fire cooled, leaving her raw and shivering as the icy air hit her. 

Movement made her force her eyes open, staring at a figure looming above her. A man, his wild, unnerving eyes taking in every inch of her naked, shivering body. 

“Well, would you look at that?” 

His voice was harsh, amused, but it wasn’t that voice that had called to her in the darkness. She thought for a moment he was the man from her dreams, the one cloaked in shadow, but somehow she knew, could feel it wasn’t him. He had felt calm, like home and comfort. This man was madness and rage. 

“And I thought he had failed.” The man purred, drawing closer to her and as she coughed and tried to clear her vision, to come back to herself fully, he grabbed her hair yanking her head up. 

She gasped, that pain seeming to fully settle her back into her body and before she knew what she was doing, she lashed out, kicking and hitting and snarling with a sudden, rewed strength. The man let out a cry as she connected with his chest, the metal of his armor stinging her hand. 

Lyra panted, gasping as he yanked back and glared at her with those crazed eyes. She bared her teeth at him, an odd instinct that made her feel feral, wild. “Attacking women, 500 years really hasn’t changed you much, Jurian.” A smooth voice whispered, lined with darkness and power. 

Her head spun as the man pulled away, adrenaline fading as he moved further away and the reality of what was happening seemed to hit her all at once. She was naked, an insane man before her in what looked to be a dank, small room. Panic began to spread through her as she tried to cover herself, to scramble away, get out. She had to get out.  
Cold hands came to rest on her shoulders, making her flinch, but a black cloak was put around her and those hands pulled her back, away from the man. She turned, her head beginning to spin and that panic beginning to overwhelm her when she saw him with surprising clarity despite the mostly dark room. 

He was beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful and when his amber eyes met hers, she felt a sudden calm settle over her. Recognition flickered through her as shadows swirled around his neck and she smiled. “You.” She whispered before the darkness completely overcame her.


	2. What Lies Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel and Lyra wake from Hybern

Azriel dreamed of darkness, deep, hollow, never ending. It surrounded him, closing in like it had all those years ago. It drew in around him, swallowing him whole. And he could do nothing to stop it. Because it’s all there was.

He woke with a start and for a moment, as he stared up at the inky black, he wondered if he hadn’t been dreaming. But then his eyes adjusted and he saw the moonlight, shinning through the window and illuminating the room in a soft glow. The light steadied his heart, calmed him. He wasn’t in that basement anymore. He was in Valaris. He was home. 

The pain hit him as he calmed, a deep, burning ache in his chest and on his wing. He pulled his hand up, running along the bare skin of his chest toward where he remembered that arrow hitting. It was covered in bandages now, thick and he smelled salve over the wound. 

“Try not to move.”

Azriel looked over, softening a bit when he caught sight of Mor in the darkness, blinking at him sleepily from a chair next to his bed. She leaned up from the cushioned seat, worrying flickering in her warm brown eyes as she looked him over. “Does it hurt? Madja left some tonic for the pain. I’ll get it.”

“I’m fine.” He assured her, which stilled her as she drew up from the chair. She sank back in it, looking exhausted and worn. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Mor answered, though the words were hollow, pained. “But Cassian….”

Azriel felt a flicker of fear, the memory of those shredded wings flashing before him. If they could not fix them, if Cassian could no longer fly… he was sure his brother would rather have been dead. “His wings.” Azriel croaked, alarm growing as he began to lean up, trying to rise. Mor stood then, quickly pressing her warm hands against his chest.

“There is nothing you can do.” She said, her voice taking on a firm edge as she continued to push him down. “You’re barely healed yourself. Madja is still working on him. It’s long and complex but she thinks…. She thinks she can fix it.”

The words calmed him a bit and he sighed as he settled back into the bed. Mor still looked unsettled though, even as she tried her best to look calm for his sake. “What-“

He paused, something flickering in his chest and he felt a sudden rush of fear, though it felt… distant. Like it wasn’t his own. He cocked his head, the shadows swirling and curling around his ears. _New. Made. She is Made._ They whispered, a soft sigh against his ear.

“The female…. The one from the Cauldron.” He whispered, closing his eyes as that pale, terrified face flashed before his eyes. She had calmed when she saw him though, those unnatural, white blue eyes meeting his, panting and shaking with her strawberry blonde hair plastered to her face. Had smiled at him, even though she was terrified.

‘ _You_ ’ She had whispered.

Mor shifted, frowning at the mention of the female. “Still comatose.” She answered, brushing her hair back as she sighed tiredly. “She is…”

“Made.” Azriel finished, though he wasn’t sure how he knew. He had not seen her go into the Cauldron as the Archeron sisters did. She had emerged from it, like she had been pulled from the depths of… somewhere else. 

“Ameren says she was Made. But she’s… different. Different even from Nesta.” Mor whispered, her brows furrowing and a frown pulling her full lips downward. “And Hybern, he said he pulled her from somewhere… else.”

Azriel frowned as well, shadows twisting and hissing in his ears. He wanted to reach out, to try to find the strange female where she rested in the house. Something made him want to see her, to take her in fully. He needed it. 

“Somewhere else.” He repeated, his scarred fingers running over his rips as he remembered that ache, that pull he had felt when the Cauldron’s power had flowed through him. Like something had pulled him or he had pulled something… someone? “She knew me.”

“What do you mean?” Mor asked, watching him with those brown, kind eyes. 

“When I pulled her from Jurian, she recognized me.” Azriel muttered, his fingers curling in the sheets. “She looked as though she knew me.”

Mor’s lips pursed, something flickering over her face as she slowly leaned back in the chair. He could see her working through this information, trying to figure out what it meant. He watched her, his eyes roaming over her worried face. After several beats of silence, Mor just sighed, shaking her head. “Rest, Az. We will work it out in the morning.”

Her fingers touched his arm, light and warm and he felt that familiar flutter at her touch. He reached out slowly, cautiously as he lay his own fingers over hers. She kept her fingers there, allowing him to keep hold of that warmth in a way she so rarely did. He felt that familiar, slight happiness from the small touch but…

It felt different, less. He pondered why as he slowly succumbed to sleep.

* * *

“Wrong… she is different…”

The voice was distant, like someone speaking to her down a long tunnel. Lyra felt them, the figures standing over her but not in the way you felt someone near her. Felt their warmth or heard their shuffling. No, she felt their power, felt it beneath their skin.

Power, pure power prowling beneath something small. Darkness, smooth pure energy next to it. She felt it all. 

“….came from it.” The Darkness whispered, moving closer. She felt the inky blackness of that power brush against her, skitter along her body and mind. “Could he? … Another world.”

That other power drew closer and she could feel it just above her, hovering, watching. She wanted to push against it, to get it away, far away, but she could not move. Her body would not listen, would not cooperate. So, she suffered under the weight of that power above her, like a lion watching its prey. “I do not know.” That power whispered, it’s voice sharp and female. “Do you feel her? Feel that fight?”

“Yes.” The Darkness answered, running along her, testing, probing. She pushed it back, shut it out and then she was lost to the world again. 

Hours, days, maybe years later, she became aware again. She was still frozen, her body seeming to fight against her attempts to make it move. It was like when someone was in that half sleep, half-awake state and she hated it. At least when she was burning, she could still move and had some control over herself. 

Something moved near her and she registered that someone was in the room with her again. It wasn’t the same two from before, but they were equally as powerful. Different power, but just as deadly. But it didn’t cause her fear. It felt steady, settling. It drew her out and seemed to call to her. 

Her fingers twitched, the first movement she was able to make and she felt elation at the tiny bit of progress. Wake up, she urged herself. Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up, _wakeupwakeupwakeup_.

She jerked up, her body screaming in protest at her sudden movement. Her whole body ached, her skin raw and sensitive. She hissed as her eyes opened, the light nearly blinding her and she quickly snapped her eyes shut again, her shaking hands pressing against her eyes to block out that light. 

“Lay back down. You are still unwell.”

She flinched away from the voice, surprising her when they lay a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed against her. She blinked, that light still stinging her eyes but she was able to focus, to finally take in the figure that was hovering over her. 

It was him. That figure from her dreams, the man who had helped her in that horrible room.

Everything came back to her then. The pain, emerging from that water, the crazed man who had tried to grab her. And him. His face as he looked back at her. 

She had been kidnapped. It was the only explanation for everything that had occurred, though she didn’t understand what that man could have done to her to make her experience that awful pain. Perhaps she didn’t want to know. And now… now she didn’t know where she was. It certainly didn’t look like a hospital. The room was clearly a bedroom, large and expansive. It was at least half the size of her apartment alone.

She panted, letting that hand guide her back down against the pillows and blankets that surrounded her. He withdrew his hand and she caught sight of it, took in the crossed and warped scars that marred the skin. She felt a twist of pain in her gut at the sight, the memory of her own scars along her legs flashing before her eyes. She tried to push it away.

He was watching her with those amber eyes, his face blank and unfeeling. She took in his face fully then, admiring the sharp cheekbones, the tan skin, the black hair. She was so distracted by taking in all the features of his face that she almost missed something shifting behind him.

Wings. Massive, leathery wings shifted behind him. For a moment she could not understand where they originated from, couldn’t put together or understand how they could possibly be moving and flowing like that behind him. 

He had wings. Real, bat like wings.

It had to be a trick. Some kind of costume or… she didn’t know, but she knew there was no way they were real. Why would he be with them though, in her not-hospital room. She sucked in a deep breathe as she closed her eyes and tried to understand what could possibly be happening. But nothing made sense, no scenario she thought up for any of it did. She felt the panic begin to rise in her, the familiar feeling of an attack growing in her. 

“Breathe.”

His voice was steady and it drew her momentarily out of her panic. She looked over at him again, meeting those amber eyes and she felt herself steady a bit at the calming look on his face. 

But then one of his large, thick wings moved behind him, spreading a bit as he leaned closer to her and she felt that flutter of panic again. He tilted his head as though he could feel it and shadows danced just around the edge of his shirt. 

“What are you?” She whispered, her voice hoarse and rough. His brow furrowed at the question, as though he didn’t understand it. 

The door opened behind him and even before he breezed into the room, she felt him again. That dark power, rumbling within him, lining his very soul. He was handsome, so handsome that it seemed unnatural with his tan skin, violet eyes and blue-black hair. The woman that followed him was the same, maybe even more so, with her curves and flowing blonde hair. 

The power brushed against her again, she felt it slither along her though the man looked perfectly at ease as he stopped just behind the winged man. 

She was losing it. Going insane. These feelings, things she could sense… they couldn’t be real.

“Please stop.” She whispered, more to herself then the people in the room and she pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to shut them out and calm herself. None of this made sense. What was happening? 

“It’s okay.” The woman said, her voice steady and Lyra felt a gentle hand lay against her shoulder. “You are safe now.”

Lyra couldn’t stop the slightly crazed laughter that bubbled from her throat at the words. Safe. She wasn’t safe with all that prowled beneath the man’s skin. She wasn’t safe when she was losing her own mind. “No one in this room is safe.” She whispered, withdrawing her hands to take in the woman looming above her, a bit of confusion on her face. 

“What do you mean?” The powerful one asked, tilting his head a bit at her. Studying her with those intelligent, quick eyes. 

But she just shook her head, another laugh leaving her and he saw worry cross the winged one’s face as well as he shifted, moving just slightly closer to her. “It doesn’t matter. None of this can possibly be real.”

“Why?” The man pushed and she saw the winged man give him a slightly sharp look she didn’t understand. 

“What do you mean why? He has wings.” Lyra answered, her voice sounding slightly hysterical as she nodded toward him. He shifted a bit under her gaze, and she saw those shadows move around him again, sliding and skittering along his skin, seeming to rise to watch her. “I can feel all that under your skin.” She continued, looking toward the other man. His brow furrowed at the words, calculating, studying. “I could feel the other one too, from before. She was…” She trailed off, shaking her head as words failed to describe what that woman felt like. That suffocating, terrifying power. 

“Ameren often has that effect on people.” The blonde whispered, flashing a kind smile to Lyra when she looked back at her. Despite Lyra’s panic, she recognized the kindness, was soothed just a bit by the warmth of the woman. It kept the fear at bay, stopped it from rising enough to send her spiraling completely into a panic attack. “I’m Morrigan. But you can call me Mor. This is Azriel and Rhysand.” 

Azriel. The one from her dream. The one she had felt called too. 

“What is your name?” Mor asked, laying a steady hand on her shoulder again. 

“Lyra.” She answered, keeping her gaze on the beautiful blonde, trying to focus on just her, her hand, her warmth and block out the others. All these things that made no sense. 

But she felt Azriel move again at her name. She was so aware of him, more then even the powerful one and it made her feel unsteady. 

“Lyra.” Mor repeated, her red lips turning up in a kind smile. “Good. Can you tell me where you come from? What you remember?”

“I’m from… from Boulden, Indiana. The last thing I remember I came home from school and… and just went to bed. But then I heard…”

_I see you._

She shuddered when she remembered the sound of that voice. It was awful, even just from her memory. Like madness and rage and pleasure given a voice. “It said it saw me.” She whispered, her fingers clenching around the blanket. 

“The Book.” Rhysand said, his hands slipping into the pocket of his black pants and despite his eased stance, the words made his face twist a bit. “It’s been…. Hissing about her since we brought it back.”

“A book?” Lyra asked, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“What else do you remember?” Mor pushed, drawing her attention back to her. 

“I felt like I was drowning. It was all black and it burned. It hurt so bad.” She shook, remembering that pain seeping into her skin, into her very soul. “And then I felt… felt like I was being pulled. Something… this cord pulled me out and then I was in that room. That man was there and…”

She looked to Azriel, blushing as she remembered him covering her nakedness. But he didn’t seem to be thinking of the same things. He looked confused, his scarred hand rubbing at a place just below his ribs. The same spot she had felt pulled from…

“Where am I now?” She asked, looking back at Mor. 

“I think you’re in a whole different world then where you were.” Rhysand said before Mor could offer more comforting words to her. The blonde gave him a glare at the words, but he kept his face smooth, easy, as though what he had just said wasn’t completely insane. 

“Another world…” She repeated, staring into his violet eyes, searching for some sign he was joking or trying to trick her. Because it was insanity, what he was suggesting. When his face remained smooth, sincere she let out another laugh, looking up to the ceiling. “What the fuck is happening?” She whispered.

“I am sorry, Lyra.” Rhysand said and she heard what seemed like genuine sincerity in his voice. Saw just a bit of it in his face when she looked back toward him. “You’re a victim to Hybern’s insanity and I am sorry for that. And I don’t know any other way to tell you the truth of what is happening.”

“That can’t be the truth.” She hissed, giving him a glare, even as he gave her that gentle look. “Things like this don’t happen. This isn’t Harry Potter, it’s my life.”

“The King of Hybern said you were an experiment, to see how far he could get.” Rhysand continued, his voice a bit kinder. “He has a book of spells and I think he tried to get to another world with the Cauldron, what you came out of. I think that spell pulled you out of yours and brought you here.”

“Magic isn’t real.” She said automatically, her voice thin. But as she said the words she looked back at Azriel, those massive wings, the shadows moving along his skin as though they had a mind of their own. He stared back, kindness and sympathy in his own eyes as he saw her struggle with what this man was saying. 

Rhysand started to speak again, but Azriel gave him another sharp look, his eyes losing that warmth he held when he looked at her. Rhysand seemed to sense the change in his companion, and he looked over at him, meeting his gaze. Something seemed to pass between them, Azriel holding him with that cold stare and something about it seemed to confuse Rhysand. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes just a bit as they continued to stare at each other. After a moment Azriel looked away, some unspoken argument settled between the two and he stood. 

“You need to rest.” Mor said, seeming to understand the odd exchange between the two. “I can stay and answer questions, but you should try to sleep some more. I can give you a tonic to help you sleep if you need it.”

Lyra blinked, confused a bit by the sudden change and she felt a bit of anger. To drop a bomb like magic and other worlds, then try to force her into sleep. “I don’t want sleep. I want this all to make sense.” She snapped, earning a sad look from Mor as she glanced back at the other two. “I don’t even know where I am. Or who you people are.”

“You are in the Night Court of Prythian.” Mor answered, voice smooth and gentle, as though she was talking to a hysterical child. Between that and the words, places that sparked no recognition whatsoever, Lyra felt her anger begin to rise. And her helplessness. Because none of their words were helping to sooth her panic or make anything make sense. “Rhysand is the High Lord. Azriel is his spymaster, and I am his third.”

Lyra closed her eyes at the words, her fists clenching around the sheets. None of this was helping. It was only making everything worse. Mor seemed to be genuinely trying to help, seemed to be sincere in her kindness, but with everything she said it only made her fear grow. Because she understood none of it and it was either some elaborate trick, some form of mental torture or what they were saying was real. Lyra couldn’t accept the latter.

“Please leave.” Lyra whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking as she opened her eyes again. She didn’t look at them, just stared at the ceiling, the slant of light shining there. Maybe if she pretended enough, she could fool herself into thinking it was the ceiling of her apartment. 

“Lyra-“ Azriel said, his cool voice laced with a bit of worry. 

“Please get out.” She insisted, tears pricking at her eyes. She took a deep breathe, trying to keep the tears at bay until she was alone. She didn’t want to cry in front of them, these beautiful, inhuman strangers. 

She heard shifting, shuffling as they seemed to head for the door. “We will be near if you need something.” Mor whispered. “Let us know if you do.”

Lyra didn’t say anything back, just focused on that slant of light, the dust twirling and drifting through the air above her as she gripped the blankets so tight her knuckles were turning white. After several torturous seconds, the door finally clicked shut and she let out a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I hope you enjoyed :)


	3. A Simple Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel worries more and Lyra makes progress

Azriel watched as Cassian spread his still heavily bandaged wings, wincing just a bit but sighing in relief when they moved and answered to his commands. They spread wider and Madja watched him carefully, moving around him, studying her work with sharp eyes. “Very good, Lord Cassian.” Madja said, her hands glowing as they ran just a few inches above the membrane. “It is looking very good.”

“Thank you, Madja.” Cassian said, his wings slowly tucking in against him again. Azriel could hear the emotion behind the thanks, could hear how much his brother genuinely meant the words. Ruined wings were death to an Illyrian warrior and Azriel knew how true that sentiment would be for Cassian. 

“Of course.” Madja said, laying a wrinkled hand to Cassian’s shoulder and giving him a kind smile. “Do not let him push too much too fast.” Madja turned her gaze to Azriel at the words, a wry smile spreading across her face. “I speak to you, for I know he won’t listen.”

Azriel gave a small smile to the healer, bowing his head as his brother sputtered and protested. Madja just pat his shoulder again before gathering her bag to put away her tonics and salves. Azriel watched her put the things away, glasses tinkling against each other. “You left some more sleep tonic for Lyra?” Azriel asked and Madja’s eyes flickered up toward him. 

“Yes, enough for the next couple days.” Madja answered and Azriel felt his brother still a bit where he was sitting, his amber eyes studying Azriel as he mentioned the strange, new female. Madja didn’t seem to notice, instead she just sighed and gave a sad look. “I will check on her again when I come to see to Lord Cassian, but… it is not her body that needs help right now.”

Azriel frowned, knowing the truth behind her words. She had retreated into herself in the last week, not speaking or acknowledging anyone after the incident just a week before…

_She was still crying. It had become less severe than before, but it was still happening, his shadows confirmed. Azriel was surprised by how much he wanted it to stop, how he wanted to help… but she was disturbed by him. He was not sure why that stung so much. He was used to people fearing him, being unnerved by his shadows and his cold exterior. Even Feyre had been cautious around him._

_Mor still remained at the House of Wind with them, and he knew she was staying to help with both Feyre’s sisters and Lyra when she chose to ask more questions. Since Feyre was gone- Azriel felt that icy anger and rage fill him when he thought of how his now High Lady was stuck with the bastard Tamlin – Mor had seemed to take it upon herself to personally try to make sure her sisters were looked after. And Lyra… Mor seemed to sense something in her, connect with her in that way she connected with all female’s who had suffered abuse. Azriel had seen it enough over the years, that way she looked at those females she had helped nurse to health or draw out of their terror and pain enough to come to stay at the Library with Clotho._

_He hated that Mor could sense that in Lyra. Hated it for both of them._

_Azriel was jerked out of his own thoughts at the sound of shattering and his shadows hissed and snapped at the sound, disturbed by it. He drew up, wincing a bit at the pain that flared from his still sore wing, but he pushed past it and headed toward the sound._ Lyra, she bleeds. She cries again. _His shadows whispered and Azriel pushed himself toward her room faster._

_He opened her door, finding her bed sheets twisted and pushed aside, but she wasn’t there. He sniffed, the scent of blood stinging his nose. He turned toward the bathroom, following that smell and saw the door partially open. He pushed it completely open, about to step into the room but stopped at the glass that littered the floor. Azriel’s brow furrowed, taking in the shattered mirror, the spots of blood that were splattered among the shards. His heart quickened as he found her, tucked into the corner by the tub, her hands around her head and sobs racking her body as she shook her head. She muttered something beneath her breathe, repeating it over and over._

_Blood dripped from her hands, down her pale, shaking arms. Some of it leaked from her feet, the shards dug into the bottom of them. She did not even seem to acknowledge the pain of it as she rocked and cried._

_“Lyra.” Azriel whispered, the smell of her blood making his heart thud against his chest. She flinched at his voice, her sobs seeming to grow. His magic flared to life, the blue sweeping over the floor to push aside the glass and creating a path toward her. She didn’t seem to notice._

_“Lyra.” He repeated, moving closer to her._

_“Not my eyes. Not me.” She whispered, her voice wavering as she gripped at her hair and continued to rock._

_Azriel did not know what the words meant, but he gently lowered himself in front of her, trying to keep his wings and shadows as still as possible. He knew how they upset her, a sign of magic she didn’t seem to believe in._

_Mor was in the doorway now, alarm and sadness written over her beautiful face as she took in the sight of the bathroom. He saw her nostrils flare a bit at the scent of the blood and she took a step into the room, flinching as she saw the droplets of it on the floor._

_“You’re hurt.” Azriel said, reaching out slowly, cautiously toward the female. He touched her arm gently, both to not alarm her and to not hurt her. He was a bit surprised when she didn’t yank away and she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face as her icy, white blue eyes met his._

_“That isn’t me.” She whispered, her voice wavering and her face crumbled again. Azriel gently pulled her hand toward him, scanning it to make sure she hadn’t cut any major artery. A cut ran along her palm, blood oozing down but he could feel it already healing._

_“What do you mean?” Mor asked gently, hovering behind him._

_But Lyra only stared at him, more tears slowly falling down her cheeks. “My eyes… this body.” She let out a choked sob again, shaking her head. “Why won’t I wake up?”_

_Azriel’s heart sank at the words, the sadness and pain in her face. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, hoping she heard the sincerity in his words. They didn’t seem to reach her though, her eyes drifting far away. She seemed to be retreating into herself, withdrawing inward. Her fingers curled into her palm, digging into the cut, making Azriel flinched. But the pain she caused herself seemed to calm her somehow, though she still cried._

_Azriel gently lifted her, but she didn’t even acknowledge the movement. Didn’t even seem to care. He set her on the edge of the tub, explaining to her in a soothing voice that he was going to get the glass out, to bandage her up. She said nothing, showed no reaction, even as he pulled that glass out and bandaged her feet and hand with Mor’s help. The pain didn’t even seem to draw her out of the place she had retreated too. Mor watched her worriedly, exchanging a fearful look with Azriel as he finished cleaning her up and then lifted her to take her back to the bed. She finally moved when he settled her there, but only to pull the blankets around her and turn away from them, staring at the wall with a broken, dead look._

_“I’ll stay with her.” Mor said softly, though Lyra didn’t react to her voice. Azriel nodded but the thought of leaving the female like this…. Something in him fought the urge to stay near her, to protect her. Mor knew what to do with pain like this, with those who had suffered in ways he would never know. As much as he wanted to help her, he knew Mor would be better._

_So he left Mor in the chair beside the bed, Lyra’s back to her. Left with the scent of her blood still in his nose._

“Try to get her to leave that room. To interact with someone. Perhaps the High Lady’s sisters. They may understand.” Madja continued, closing her bag, and putting it on her shoulder. 

Perhaps they would, but the thought of subjecting Lyra to the withdrawn and pained Elain or the hissing, dark anger of Nesta made Azriel flinch a bit. They would understand, but he wasn’t sure either would help the female. But he bowed his head in thanks for her advise and watched her retreat from the room. 

“She still isn’t any better then?” Cassian asked, his voice casual, steady. It was the voice he used when he was trying to pry but subtly. It wasn’t ever as subtle as his brother thought it was. 

“No.” Azriel said, offering no more. Cassian shifted and he could feel the questions simmering in him. He hadn’t been well enough yet to venture out of his own room or even meet the female himself. Azriel wasn’t sure it would be good for her to meet him anyway. She still shrunk back from his own wings, his shadows. 

“Perhaps we should make her come out.” Cassian said, running a hand through his black curls. “Bring her to the table for a meal or to the balcony. Getting out of that room would be best for her.”

Azriel gave a simple ‘hmm’ in response and he saw Cassian give him a slightly amused look. He glanced back, his face hardening a bit at the gleam growing in his eyes. “What is it about her?” Cassian asked, that amusement now lining his voice and it grated on Azriel’s nerves. Mostly because he didn’t know the answer himself. 

“Perhaps I should ask you the same about Nesta.” Azriel answered darkly and the name of the eldest Archeron sister had the exact effect he knew it would on his brother. That smile was wiped from his face and it took on a hard edge. Grim satisfaction flickered through Azriel.

“You compare her to Nesta?” Cassian bit back and Azriel only gave a cold look in return. Cassian’s face broke, a laugh escaping him as he shook his head. “I need to meet this female.”

“Leave her be.” Azriel answered, his words biting more then he meant. It only served to amuse Cassian more. Azriel left him in his own amusement, irritation growing when he snapped the door shut behind him. He slowly walked past Lyra’s own room, pausing to listen, and letting his shadows drift beneath the door, studying her, making sure she was alright in there. 

She was still in bed, not asleep, still stuck in that place inside her head. He frowned, a flicker of pain at the report, before he pulled them back and headed toward the kitchens. His shadows whispered where the Archeron sisters were as well, with Nesta in the chair she had taken over in the library and Elain in her room, staring out that window. She didn’t fare much better than Lyra, lost and broken from her time in the Cauldron. Nesta tried to help her in what way she could, but no amount of pushing seemed to help the middle sibling. 

Azriel headed toward the balcony after his shadows slithered back to him from reporting on the others and spread his wings wide. His left still burned a bit when he did, but he was finally able to fly again after a week. He had to get out of this house for a bit before the pain from them all consumed him as well. 

So he took flight, to where, he didn’t know. But he prayed to the Mother something changed when he came back.

* * *

Lyra woke to these strange feelings yet again, hating the way she was able to hear, to feel the other people in the large house moving and walking around. She felt and heard more than just their movements, could feel what made them… other. She hated it. It made her feel even more insane than she was sure she already was. 

Every time she opened her eyes, she willed herself to be back in her apartment. Every time she opened her eyes her chest caved in when it was the same, foreign bedroom in this strange world. 

She dug her nails into her arm, pain radiating up and drawing her back to herself. The pain helped to distract her from the heart beats she heard, the ocean waves, the people milling about in this city.

From his shadows that he sent to look at her, whispering along her floor and observing her.

They were gone now, left with him after he had drifted past her room. She could always feel where he was, even in ways that she couldn’t with the others. Even when he went to the floors below her.

She paused and searched for where he was now. She wasn’t sure why.

But she couldn’t feel him. At all.

Lyra lifted from the bed, turning toward the door and frowned, listening for him again. She felt the other two woman the floor above, one in the same room she always was in and the other roaming around. She felt that other man in his room, though he was restless in his bed. But Azriel and his shadows weren’t there.

She felt oddly panicked at that, though she wasn’t sure why. She gripped her blanket, her fingers shaking a bit. Why would he have left?

Before she fully knew what she was doing, she pushed up from the bed, swaying a bit as her head spun. She had rarely ventured out of the bed, only to use the bathroom or take the food that Mor left in her room. It took her a minute to steady herself and once she did, she headed toward the door. Her feet had already healed, faster then they should of. She tried to ignore that, but it only served to remind her that her body was no longer the same. 

Her hand landed on the doorknob, her heart thudding more then she wanted it too. She hadn’t felt like this, so helpless and terrified of the outside world in years. Not since she was young, not since her mother had left her with that monster…

_You are stronger than this. You can do this._

She jerked the door open, terror threading its way through her veins. She peaked out, glad that the hallway was empty and quiet. She picked a way to go at random, venturing down it cautiously, ready to run back to her room if she needed too. She turned a couple times, trying to remember which way to make sure she made it back. 

She found a dining room, large and spacious that led to open doors and a balcony that looked down on the city below. She felt the breeze on her skin, cool and night kissed. Stars twinkled outside and she stared, transfixed by the beauty of it. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t the night sky she had looked at for almost her whole life. It was different… even more beautiful. 

“Finally left the room, huh?”

Lyra whipped around, her heart thudding painfully against her chest as she caught sight of another winged man, his features similar to Rhysand and Azriel’s, though he looked different. He was handsome, just like the other two, but rougher, like he was made from something different. More from the earth. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she realized this was the man she could feel from several rooms away. Azriel, Mor, Rhysand and the small, strange one named Ameren visited him this last week. 

His wings were bandaged, but she could see the same leathery skin, same large talon on the apex that Azriel’s had. Whatever they were, they came from the same place. They were too similar not too. 

“Lyra, right?” The man asked, studying her with those amber eyes. Though he looked and felt wild and brutal, something about him was kind. There was a gentleness there that reminded her slightly of Mor. 

“You’re the other one.” She muttered, her voice hoarse and rough. “I felt you in that room.”

Cassian tilted his head at her, taking in the words. Despite how crazed they sounded, it didn’t seem to unnerve him. He looked like he believed her. It settled some of the fear in her stomach. 

“Cassian. And I’ve been healing.” He said simply, jerking his hand toward his bandaged wings. “They got pretty tore up.”

She ran her eyes along those wings, that feeling of panic rising in her at the sight. They weren’t right, weren’t human. Mor had tried to engage her more and tried to probe her to ask more questions, but Lyra had always shut it out. She was too scared to hear the answers. Cassian seemed to see something in her eyes, because he tucked his wings in just a bit and quickly jerked his head toward the table, distracting her. “You want food?”

At the words, she was suddenly aware of how hungry she was. She had barely eaten during the week. But she just looked back toward the sky, her brow furrowing.

“He’s gone.” She said, frowning.

“Azriel?” Cassian asked, drawing her attention back to him. He was studying her a bit more now, something odd in his eyes as he looked at her. Like he was looking for something she didn’t understand. “He’ll be back. Probably went to talk with Rhysand.”

Cassian made his way to the table, settling himself into a chair and gestured toward the other one. He was so casual with her, so at ease that it almost felt like he had known her for years and not moments. It made her feel… normal for the first time this whole week. 

She slowly walked toward the chair across from him, easing herself into it and he smiled at the simple action. He made a movement with his hand and she jerked back, flinching when a plate full of food suddenly appeared in front of her. 

Her eyes closed, her heart speeding up. She shouldn’t have left the room. This wasn’t real.

“Hey, just breathe.”

Cassian was watching her, his face soft as he leaned a bit toward her. She stared back, tears pricking her eyes as she saw that food was still in front of her. She dug her nails into her palm at the sight of it, her breathe becoming shallow. Cassian face grew worried. 

“Breathe.” He repeated, frown deepening and nostrils flaring when her nails drew blood. “Just look at me and breathe.”

She met his gaze, taking a rattling, deep breath. Cassian nodded, smiling just a bit and she took another. After a few moments, the fear settled a bit, though she still felt it there. He was watching her cautiously, like she was a trapped animal that would lash out at any moment. 

“Good.” Cassian said, nodding at her encouragingly. “It’s just food. It’s alright.”

“This can’t be real.” She whispered. It had become her mantra this last week, every time she felt that power beneath all their skins, every time she woke up to the sound of other people’s hearts in her ears, when she felt those shadows sneaking under her door. 

“You were human before, weren’t you?” He asked, studying her. 

“What else is there?” She asked, her voice sharper then she intended. It didn’t disturb him though, he merely leaned back, those massive wings shuffling a bit. She flinched at the movement. 

“Well, we’re Fae.” He said simply and she saw his wings still, as though he was trying to have her forget about them. 

“Fae.” She repeated, her voice skeptical. “Like… fairies?”

“Yes.” He answered, brow rising a bit at her answer. He hadn’t expected her to know. “You have them in your… where you’re from?”

In your world. She knew it was what he had wanted to say. 

“No. They’re myths.” She snapped, though she wasn’t sure why she was angry at him. He took in her anger, observed it and just grabbed his fork and began to eat as he thought over her words. “They aren’t real.”

“I believe you.” He said, though the words made her angrier for some reason. “Things like Ameren aren’t supposed to be real here either.”

She glared back at him; at the casual way he said the words. She felt still felt like what they were trying to convince her had happened was an elaborate trick. A way to toy with her, make her feel even more unstable than she already did. She was about to snap at him again, but she stopped when she felt Azriel again, the breeze from his wings making her shiver. She turned, her stomach twisting at the image of him against the night sky, those wings flared to full length and cloaked in shadows that drifted around him like smoke. He stared back at her, surprise in his usually blank face when he took in the sight of her sitting at the table with Cassian.

“You… are eating?” He said, looking slightly confused. His wings tucked into his body, the shadows slipping beneath his shirt and out of sight. 

“You were gone.” She answered, though she blushed at the words. She sounded so needy, so weak. She dug her nails into her skin again. 

“I-I am sorry.” He said, seeming genuinely upset for leaving her alone, though he owed her nothing. He didn’t even know her. She frowned, pulling her arms around herself and turning away from him. She shouldn’t need him. She shouldn’t put that on him. 

“It’s fine.” She said tightly and he continued to watch her, those eyes boring into her as she turned away from him and stared instead at the plate before her. Cassian took in the exchange, some kind of recognition crossing his features as he looked between the two of them. 

“Want some, brother?” Cassian asked, still putting on the air of casualness. Azriel shook his head, though he went to sit beside Cassian, sinking into the chair next to him. 

“Brother?” Lyra asked, her eyes moving between the two. It made sense; they were so similar looking. 

“Not by blood.” Cassian laughed, his massive hand coming to land on Azriel’s shoulder. Azriel eyed him, his face tightening in what looked like annoyance. It was a look that she realized probably happened a lot, a look that was familiar and human. Long suffering annoyance. “Just two bastard nobodies with no family of their own.”

He said it so nonchalantly. Like it wasn’t a sentence filled with pain and perhaps years of trauma. 

“Eat. It’s good.” Cassian said, nodding toward her food as he began to eat his own again. Lyra lowered her eyes to the plate, observing the chicken, potatoes, and green beans. It was a normal looking meal despite how it had gotten here. She sniffed it subtly, checking for any difference between how the meal smelled before when she was home, but found no difference. How she would know, she wasn’t sure. Her scent was better now, to much so, but its not like she would of known what to look for here if something was wrong. 

“Do you want something different?” Azriel asked, his voice calm and steady. “I can get it-“

“No.” She said because she couldn’t take seeing more food come from nowhere again. Azriel seemed confused by her reaction, but he merely nodded. She picked up her fork, cautiously picking up a tiny bit of potatoes and bringing it to her mouth.

It was delicious. Rich and flavored. She wasn’t sure what she expected magicked food to do to her, but she was still cautious and slow as she ate it. She was so hungry she wanted to scarf it down, but she restrained herself. 

Azriel watched her the whole time, looking relieved when she ate more and more. She tried to ignore him and the way his concern made her feel oddly warm.

Cassian began to speak with Azriel, asking him questions that Lyra didn’t quite understand but she didn’t listen much. He didn’t push her anymore about her home or about things she didn’t want to discuss. She was glad of it and thankful that he seemed to realize it was a bad road to go down. Azriel conversed with him, though she could feel him still observing her, taking in all her actions. 

When she grew full, she set her fork down and glanced around the room, taking in more of her surroundings. This place was so big, more massive than any house she had ever been in. She knew it was bigger than she even fully knew because she could hear others outside of the two women, Cassian and Azriel, distant and far away. 

She heard the familiar footsteps of the other woman further in the house, heard her rummaging through something. She could hear her heartbeat as she concentrated, steady and even. She felt that unnatural power too, like ice and fire and something so terrifying she found herself flinching back from it a bit. Whatever she was, whatever power she held, it was not normal… like Ameren. It was wrong and foreign and dark.

“Lyra?”

Azriel’s voice called her back to the dining room, away from that unsettling power. She blinked, looking over at him and saw the worry in his eyes as he observed her. “Who are they?” She asked, looking back toward where the woman was still walking around in the distance.

“Our High Ladies sisters.” Azriel said and she saw Cassian stiffen just a bit, that casual ease evaporating. He didn’t stop eating but she saw his fingers tighten around his fork and his jaw ticked. “Elain and Nesta Archeron.”

“She isn’t right.” Lyra muttered, her brow furrowing as she continued to look toward them. Cassian’s eyes snapped up to her then, something like fear crossing his face. 

“You can feel what it is?” Cassian asked, his voice strained. He was watching her with an odd intensity that she didn’t understand. 

“I don’t know. It’s just not right. It feels like…” She paused, a shiver running down her spine as she realized why the feeling unnerved her so much. “It feels like when I was in that water.”

Cassian didn’t seem to know how to answer that, but she could see that the words pained him. Whoever this woman was, the rough man clearly cared for her to worry that much. She felt bad that the words had disturbed him. 

“Did she come out of that… thing too?” She asked, regretting the words as another pained look crossed Cassian’s face. But she had to know. If they had come from somewhere else too…

“They were put in it.” Azriel said, watching both her and Cassian for any sign of distress at the words. “But they came from here.”

Lyra frowned, that hope disappearing just as quickly as it had come. She leaned back in her seat, suddenly feeling exhausted and heavy. “I… I don’t know how to get back to my room.” She muttered. Azriel caught onto her words, quickly standing and nodding toward the hallway to the left. 

“I can show you.” He said and she nodded, pushing away from the table and heading back toward her room. Azriel stayed a healthy distance away from her, seeming to struggle with what to do around her. She tried to concentrate on how to get back, but she was so tired and after everything that had happened tonight, she didn’t have enough left in her to pay attention. She wanted back in that bed. She wanted away from people again. 

Azriel stepped back and allowed her to open her door when they arrived at her room. She went inside and she saw him stand back, looking unsure of what to do or say as she stepped inside. She merely said a quick thank you before shutting the door on him. It took everything she had to crawl into the bed and bury her face into the soft pillows. She felt an odd comfort at the sight of that wall as she slowly drifted into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing like crazy so got this one done sooner then I thought. Enjoy and thanks again to everyone who commented or gave kudos!


	4. Questions Answered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra learns the truth and Azriel's shadows go quiet

Lyra stared at the reflection, her heart pounding madly against her chest, her nails digging into her palm so hard she smelled blood. This is what she got for leaving her room again.  
  
She saw herself in this new face, saw her basic looks, the slope of her nose, the shape of her lips, her strawberry blonde hair. But it was... enhanced, more. Like someone had taken the ordinary parts and made it even more beautiful. Her ear were the biggest difference in shape, rising to a point that reminded her more of elves.   
  
Her eyes though. They were wrong. All wrong.  
  
She had brown eyes before, normal, ordinary brown eyes. So ordinary she used to wish when she was younger they were a prettier color. But now they were blue, almost white with a darker circle of blue around it. They were unnerving, terrifying. She wished more than anything for those brown eyes again.  
  
Her scars were gone too, like someone had given her whole new skin. And her limbs were longer, her movement too graceful. Everything about it was wrong.  
  
She dug her fingers in more, trying to ground herself, pull herself away from the foreign person staring back. It was like she was gone, replaced by someone flawless, new and unnatural. It made her want to claw at her skin, to find the person she was before. Perhaps she could find her if she went far enough-  
  
A crack sounded and Lyra cried out as the glass of the window she had caught her reflection in shattered, the shards skidding across the marble floor around her. They glowed, like something hot had broken them and whatever had done it seemed to pulse in the air, making it vibrate and rattle her. She stared, her breath shallow. Had she-  
  
“Lyra?!”  
  
Mor stood behind her several feet back near the first bits of glass that lay on the floor. Her eyes grew wide at the sight and Lyra saw her eyes run over her. Checking for cuts. Lyra could see her remembering her first night here when she had broken the mirror. But that had been with her fist. She didn’t... couldn’t have done this.  
  
“It just broke.” She whispered, shaking as she still felt the power in the air slowly ebbing away. “I didn’t...”  
  
She shook her head, her voice cracking. She hadn’t done this. She couldn’t have. But then who had?  
  
Her body was different. These people insisted they were Fae. Fine. But she drew the line at having powers of her own.  
  
“It’s okay.” Mor said gently, giving her a smile she knew was meant to calm her. It reminded her of one a mother gave a tantruming child. It grated her nerves.  
  
“I didn’t do it.” She insisted, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach. When would this stop? When would she feel normal again or like she wasn’t losing her mind completely? Every day it was something new. She clenched her fist again.  
  
“I’m going to clear a path for you to walk.” Mor said, keeping that calm, steady tone. Before Lyra could take in what she meant, she saw Mor hands move and the glass skittered aside, pushing back to clear a path. Lyra flinched again, feeling that small use of magic flow from Mor. “I’m sorry.” Mor whispered, sadness creeping into her voice.  
  
Lyra just shook her head, trying to focus instead on breathing, on pushing out the terror beginning to work its way up. She swept past Mor without a word, following the hallway that had led to her room. “Lyra,” Mor called, her dress swishing as she followed after her.  
  
“I’m going back to bed.” Lyra bit out, hoping the blonde would leave her alone. But she kept coming, following her to the door of her room. “Please just-“  
  
“Lyra, I understand.” Mor interrupted and the words filled Lyra with a swell of anger.  
  
“You understand?” She snapped, glaring at her. Mor didn’t flinch though, didn’t back down. She stood her ground, taking that anger. “I’m not the same. This body isn’t mine and I feel things that don’t make sense. Half the time I wonder if I’m insane.”  
  
“You were violated.” Mor said, her face softening. “Your body, your entire self. I understand that. I’ve suffered that way.”  
  
Lyra starred, the words, there meaning sinking into her like a rock. The anger died down and guilt replaced it, making her feel sick. Because she knew that pain to, even before this body. She wrapped her arms around herself, letting out a breath.  
  
“I know it isn’t completely the same. But I want to help, Lyra. We all do.” Mor continued, taking a step forward when she saw that anger die out. She laid a hand on her arm, squeezing it. The gesture made tears prick Lyra’s eyes and she blinked, trying to stop them from spilling. “Please just... come to me if you need it. I will try to help.”  
  
Lyra swallowed, her throat thick as she finally met Mor’s gaze. The sincerity, the kindness on her face... Lyra wondered where she pulled it from. She didn’t know if she could ever get to that place.  
  
“I’m not good at... at asking for help.” She murmured. Mor let out a breathy laugh, her face breaking into a smile.  
  
“You’ll fit into this group well then.” She said, her warm hand squeezing once more before it fell back to her side. “All that matters is you try.”  
  
Lyra nodded, taking another deep breath before she looked back at the bedroom door. Try. What did trying look like here? Accepting the reality that she was no longer in her world, she was in a place of magic and chaos and power?  
  
“I broke the window, didn’t I?” She whispered, so low she almost wished Mor didn’t hear it.  
  
The beautiful blonde paused, her eyes on Lyra, gauging if she could handle the truth. But Lyra, deep down, already knew.  
  
“Yes, you did.” Mor answered truthfully, watching and waiting for her reaction.  
  
A tear slipped down her cheek and she sucked in a shaky breath. She nodded, reaching one hand to her arm and digging in the nails, the pain piercing her. She felt that urge again, to rip at her skin, to try to find a semblance of her old self underneath.  
  
She loosened her grip on her arm, trying to steady herself. Mor watched on, a steady presence there to catch her if needed. “I don’t know what to do.” She admitted, another tear slipping as she looked to Mor helplessly.  
  
“I think it would help to learn how this came to be, about this world. What brought you here.” Mor said, watching her carefully. “Then you can decide what to do and where to go from there.”

Lyra chewed on her lip, thinking over the suggestion. The thought of what that would entail, the answers she would get… she wasn’t sure she wanted to know all those facts. The reality of what the truth was. The reality-

_You never could face reality, could you?_

Her own words from all those years ago echoed in her head, making her stomach churn. Her mother never could accept reality, something right in front of her. If she hid away in her room, didn’t face what was now before her, she would be no better. She wouldn’t be like that. 

“Okay.” She said, taking another deep breath and wiping the tears from her cheek. 

_You are stronger than this. You can do this._

“Okay.”

2348-92384-02834-02984-02483-048

Lyra was waiting at the dining table when arrived on the balcony, Mor seated beside her and Cassian, his wings still bandaged and tucked into his back, sitting across from her. They chatted normally and though Mor tried to engage the female, she didn’t draw much conversation from her. She seemed too nervous, concentrating on remaining there instead of bolting back to her room. 

She looked up when he landed, Rhysand just behind him with Amren. Amren huffed as Rhysand set her down, her lips pursing as she headed toward the dining room. Though the tiny monster knew the only other way to come here was the thousands of steps, she always seemed resentful of having to be carried to the House. She lifted her chin as she breezed into the room, brushing her fingers through her black hair. 

Lyra looked to her then, her heart picking up speed as she took in Amren for the first time since waking. Her fist clenched on the table, her nails digging into her skin. It was a nervous habit of hers, to scratch or claw at herself when things became to overwhelming for her. He resisted the urge to stop it whenever he saw it. 

Amren settled herself into the chair directly across from Lyra and Azriel saw her flinch at the closeness. Azriel seated himself at Amren’s other side and Rhysand took the last seat on her other. Lyra straightened when he did, looking even more nervous when she realized that the meeting was actually happening. She looked between them all, clearly hoping someone else would begin the conversation. 

“Decided to stop hiding then, girl?”

Ameren’s sharp voice sent a sudden, unexpected jolt of anger down his spine and he surprised both himself and the others when he let out a low snarl toward her. Amren turned her unnatural eyes on him, raising one of her black eyebrows at him. He stared back, that icy rage he so rarely let out rising in him. Amren didn’t back down though, not that he had expected it. 

“I guess so.” Lyra said and Amren turned her gaze toward her, amusement sparking in her eyes. Lyra swallowed, seeming to appraise Amren with her own white-blue eyes. “We’ll see after all of this, I suppose.”

“Haven’t gotten enough to eat lately, Amren?” Cassian taunted, flashing his own cocky grin to her when she glared at him. 

“I seem to be the only one working and with that damned Book. It won’t shut up.” Amren snapped, leaning back in her chair and narrowing her eyes at him. 

“She’s always cranky when she’s hungry.” Mor whispered to Lyra, her lips twitching in amusement as Amren huffed at her. Lyra watched the exchange, though she looked mostly at Amren and Azriel could tell she was feeling the power beneath her and from the way her nails dug into her other arm, he knew what she felt was disturbing her. 

“So,” Rhysand spoke up before another one of them could tease Amren further. “Mor said you wished to speak.”

Lyra took a deep breath when the others turned toward her, taking a moment to steel herself before she looked to Rhysand. His brother watched her, those cunning violet eyes taking her in. They hadn’t interacted outside the time when she first woke up, though Mor and Azriel provided him with reports of how she was. Rhysand had been interested in the female, but between worrying about his mate and doing his own spying while Azriel was still healing, he hadn’t had time to come meet with her again. Azriel wasn’t sure she would have met with him anyway.

“Mor said I should listen to… to why I’m here.” Lyra muttered, her fingers unclenching and flexing as she set her hand on the table. “Or what happened, I guess. You said someone called Hybern brought me here?”

“The King of Hybern.” Rhysand nodded, his jaw ticking at the mention of him. “Humans used to be slaves to the Fae until 500 years ago, when they rebelled and started a war to gain their freedom. The King of Hybern was one of some Fae that fought to keep the humans subjugated. When he lost-“

“Wait, sorry.” Lyra interrupted, her fingers splaying out on the table as her face scrunched in confusion. “The King… the same King that was there that night fought in a war 500 years ago?”

“Yes. We all did.” Rhys said simply. Lyra’s jaw clenched, her lips pursing as she processed the information. Rhysand gave her a moment to sort out the information, watching her cautiously as she struggled with it. 

“You all look good for your age, I guess.” She murmured, though Azriel saw her fingers tighten again. Cassian let out a surprised laugh, drawing Lyra’s gaze back toward him. Mor smiled as well, relieved that the female seemed to be holding steady. 

“Hybern lost the war and the humans were freed. Lands were split up and the humans were given what is known as the Continent and a sliver of land at the bottom of Prythian. A wall was eventually erected to separate them with a treaty put in place.” Rhysand went on, his tan finger tapping lightly on the table. “He wishes to bring things back to how they were. He found the Cauldron, an ancient, powerful relic to tear down the wall and take back what he views is his.”

“The Cauldron, it’s what I came… out of?” Lyra asked, her face twisting a bit at the painful memory of emerging from it. 

“Yes. Hybern posses a nasty book of spells that he used that night.” Mor muttered, grimacing as she glanced at Cassian, those broken wings. His brother gave her a small smile in return and Azriel saw his fingers twitch, seeming to resist the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. Mor’s face softened at the gesture before she looked back toward Lyra. “We think that he also tried to use the Cauldron to see if he could get access or passage to other worlds.”

“The spell didn’t seem to work quite like he wanted it too.” Amren said, her smokey eyes on Lyra, assessing her again. Lyra looked back and though her breathing became a bit shallow, she held her gaze. “It seems it failed to begin with.”

“We went that night with the intention of stopping him.” Rhysand continued and Azriel felt the anger rumbling beneath his brother’s cool exterior. Saw behind that mask he put on for Lyra, to the anger and pain their failure had cost him. “Long ago, someone made a way to neutralize the Cauldron. It was called the Book of Breathings, the thing you heard. There were two halves, that we found to translate and get the spells to stop it. We took it there that night to stop Hybern from using the Cauldron but…”

“It was a shit show.” Cassian interrupted, his wings flexing slightly as though feeling that pain all over again. Rhysand’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t correct their brother, though he gave him an annoyed look. Cassian just shrugged. 

“The spell to neutralize the Cauldron could only be done by someone Made, as Feyre was. But it… nearly killed her.” Azriel said softly and Lyra glanced at him. 

“My best guess,” Rhysand purred, clearly still fighting the anger rumbling in him. The mention of Feyre did nothing to help it. “Is that the power released when Feyre tried the spell and when she put together the two halves of the book is, what completed the spell that drew you here.” 

“Feyre, she’s your… wife?” Lyra asked, glancing to Rhysand and raising an eyebrow. 

“My mate and High Lady.” He said and Azriel saw those stars in his eyes twinkling out. Azriel could not imagine the pain his brother felt at having his beloved mate in another male’s territory. In _Tamlin’s_ , who nearly killed Feyre with his neglect. Azriel himself fought the urge to find her himself, to bring her back to their home. Such a small amount of time she had been with them and yet it felt incomplete here without her. “She was once human and turned Fae a little over a year ago.”

Lyra’s lips pursed and Azriel saw something like sympathy cross her features. “She was changed too? Where… where is she?” Lyra asked and Azriel saw what she wanted in her eyes. Someone to connect too, who would perhaps understand. Despite the pain that flashed in his brother’s eyes, he saw that too and his face softened when he answered her question.

“She is working to help us. To find out what the enemy is doing.” Rhysand answered, his voice tight. The others had become just as sullen; Cassian had stilled, his fists clenched as he glared at the table, Mor closing her eyes briefly as she thought of her friend and the danger she was in and even Amren held anger in her swirling eyes. Lyra seemed to pick up on the mood, frowning but she nodded. 

“So,” Lyra said, clearing her throat and obviously distract herself from that hope of meeting someone like her. “Does this mean the King can get to my world? That he could go there?”

“I don’t think so.” Azriel answered and he saw the worry and pain simmering in her eyes at the thought. “The power it took to get you here and to change Nesta and Elain most likely drained it.”

“Reports are murky, but Azriel is correct.” Rhysand said, bowing his head toward his brother. Reports that Rhysand had to go and find. He felt anger bubble in his stomach. He should be out there, he should be doing his part and living up to his duties as Spymaster. But his brother had ordered him to stay until fully healed, Madja backing him up. “The King has not used it since then. And to send himself through with the amount of power it took, I don’t think he would be willing to risk his own safety right now.”

That seemed to comfort Lyra a bit, but she still looked worried, unsure. “If I was just an experiment to see about other words… why change me?” She asked, her eyes growing stormy at the words. He saw her fist clench again, nearly flinched when he smelled a tiny bit of blood. “Why did that Book speak to me?”

“I am sorry, but… I don’t know.” Rhysand said, offering a sad smile at the words. Lyra’s frowned deepened, her eyes closing briefly. 

“The Book is very interested in you.” Amren muttered, clearly either ignoring or not noticing the pain radiating off the female. She turned toward Amren, looking disturbed by the news. “It hisses and whispers about you all the time. Calls you Lady of-“

“Life.” Lyra finished, surprising Amren. Rhysand raised an eyebrow as well, watching her curiously. “That’s what it said to me in the water. It said ‘We will make you, Lady of Life.”

“Hmmm.” Amren murmured, looking thoughtful and Azriel saw her meet Rhysand’s gaze. They seemed to exchange a few words. Lyra looked between them, her brow furrowing.

“What does that mean?”

“That the Book seems to have Made you.” Amren said bluntly and Lyra gave her a confused look. “Turned you Fae.”

“Why…” Lyra breathed, shaking her head in confusion. Anger flashed in her eyes too and Azriel felt that pulse of her power, lurking and churning. She didn’t seem to notice herself, but he saw Rhysand watching her carefully now, cautious. 

“Perhaps you should speak with it.” Amren suggested, tilting her head as she studied Lyra. “Speak to the book and see what it says.”

“No.” Azriel answered, even before the words sank into Lyra. The others looked to him, surprise written on their faces. Amren watched him too, her teeth a flash of white as she gave him an amused, deadly smile. “No.” He repeated, his words coming out a soft snarl. 

Mor had gone still, her brow furrowing as she looked at him and then slowly to Lyra, who was watching him in confusion. He felt black, rumbling power against the cold, deadly ice that shielded his own mind, seeking a way in.

 _You push her too far._ Azriel said when he lowered just enough for his brother to communicate with him. Lyra had barely come around to this new world, could barely seem to handle this meeting. Subjecting her to that book…

That shattered mirror flashed in his mind. The blood running down those thin arms.

 _It is her choice._ Rhysand answered and Azriel snarled internally at him. His brother did not flinch back. He always was able to handle the anger that Azriel held in, deep within himself. Perhaps because Rhysand held something similar as well. 

_Her choice or some kind of experiment?_ Azriel challenged and he felt his brothers own rolling anger flicker through his mind. He did not back down. He could not risk the female hurting herself again. 

_It is her choice._ Rhysand repeated, but the tone, the tenor changed. Power lined the words, command that Rhysand rarely wielded between them. Azriel’s back stiffened, his fist clenching as he fought it. 

“What… what is that?” Lyra asked and Azriel was pulled back to her. She stared between them, confusion in her eyes as she seemed to see that power that had passed between them. She met his gaze worriedly, seeing him struggling with the command Rhys had given and she pursed her lips, looking cautiously at Rhysand. Like she was afraid he was harming Azriel. 

“If you wish to speak with the Book, you may.” Rhysand said smoothly, no sign of that anger on his face or in his voice. Lyra was still watching him, looking apprehensive. 

“It is your choice.” Azriel bit out and his brother cast him a warning look. Mor looked pale, eyes still flitting between Lyra and him. He wasn’t sure what that look on her face meant. 

Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, thinking over the choice. After a moment she frowned, letting out a tired sigh. “I’ll think about it.” She mumbled, looking cautiously toward Rhysand. But he only dipped his head in response. Lyra leaned back against the chair, everything from this night seeming to hit her at once and she looked exhausted. Azriel was surprised she had lasted this long, and she had kept it together well enough to get this far. It soothed some of the constant worry he seemed to carry for her. And he felt relieved that she was accepting things, becoming more open to this world and them. 

He still wasn’t sure why. It made him bristle.

“So you plan to stop him?” Lyra asked, looking between them. 

“Yes. When he comes, we will fight him. We will stand with the humans again and anyone else who needs it.” Mor said, her voice thick. She still had an odd look on her face, but whatever was worrying her she had pushed down to offer comfort to the female beside her. Lyra’s face softened when she looked to Mor and Azriel was surprised when she offered the blonde a tiny smile. One of his shadows hissed and he felt something like jealously churn in the pit of his stomach. 

Lyra let out another tired sigh, running a hand through her hair when she looked away from Mor. The blonde laid a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. “You do not have to decide anything right now. You deserved to know why what happened to you was done and now you do. You deserve time to understand and decide what to do.” Mor said softly and Lyra seemed to struggle with the words slightly but she swallowed and nodded. “Do you have anymore questions?”

“No.” Lyra answered, shaking her head. “Yes. But I think if I hear anymore my head will explode.”

Cassian gave a soft laugh and when she looked to him, he gave her a sly smile. “Think you handled it pretty well, considering.” He said and the words seemed to offer Lyra some comfort because she relaxed slightly. 

“There are worse ways.” Amren said, the words holding the barest hint of kindness. “I burned an entire kingdom when I came to this world.”

All of them froze, giving the tiny female mixed look of shock, disbelief and horror. She merely stared back, a cool, bored look on her face. Azriel had never heard her speak of when she had come to this world and he couldn’t even think of more than perhaps three times she had voluntarily revealed information about her previous self in the centuries he had known her. 

“You came from another world too?” Lyra asked, looking both shocked and slightly annoyed. Amren merely nodded, picking at one of her nails. “Where-“

“A world beyond even yours, girl.” Amren answered, though the words were clipped and shut off. Closing the conversation. He could see Lyra struggling with the dismissal, fighting to ask more but Mor squeezed her arm again, shaking her head slightly. Lyra looked displeased but clamped her lips together. 

“I’ll ask more when I can get it all through my head.” Lyra said instead, glancing again at Rhysand. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Rhysand said, before dipping his head to her. “While you are here, Lyra, you are under the protection of my Court. I will do all I can to help you and you may consider this city your home while you are here. We will assist you in any way we can.”

Lyra’s face softened, her cheeks reddening slightly at his kind words. Azriel felt some of that anger from before towards Rhysand dissipate. “Thank you.” Lyra said, giving Rhysand a meaningful look, then Mor and then toward him. He stared back, surprised that she was extending it to him. 

_Beautiful._ His shadows sighed, whispering along his ear before they drew back. Warmth spread in his chest and he relished how his shadows quieted under the small, slight smile she offered him. 

_Beautiful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was slightly hard to write, mostly just trying to get the Inner Circles interactions right and keep them in character. Still feel kind of unsure about it, but I think I kept them all pretty well themselves. 
> 
> Thank you to all who commented or kudos. You're all the best :)


	5. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra touches shadows and Azriel faces old pain

Lyra watched as Mor bustled into her room, bright, happy and practically bouncing as she hauled multiple bags in and onto the bed. Lyra blinked tiredly, barely awake for the day. Mor was unfazed by this and gave her a large smile when she had everything down. 

“I went shopping!” She declared and Lyra raised an eyebrow at the blonde, faint amusement flickering there. Mor began to pull from the bags, lifting what looked like light, breezy shirts and some thick, soft looking sweaters. “I can’t keep stealing Feyre’s clothes for you, so I went and got some for you.”

“Some?” Lyra asked, looking over the six overflowing bags. “Does this store have anything left?”

Mor laughed, shrugging as she laid some of the pieces out before her. “A few things,” She assured her, looking toward the bags. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got some of everything. We can return whatever you don’t like or I’ll give it to Feyre.”

Lyra softened, her throat tightening a bit at the kindness. “I… you didn’t have to-“

Mor waved her away, pressing the soft sweater to her hands. “Trust me, I never turn down a chance to shop. Besides, you needed it and I figured you were still iffy about going down to the city.”

Lyra hugged the sweater close, caught off guard yet again by the effortless kindness that Mor seemed to have. She was right, she wasn’t ready to be around all the people she felt in the city below. Even the thought of it, feeling all of them around her made her skin crawl. She wondered if she would ever be okay enough to do it.

“Thank you. I’m pretty sure this is more clothes than I ever had at home.” She muttered, running her eyes over the bags again and flashing Mor a small smile. The blonde grinned before launching into explaining the various items she had bought her, what pieces she had chosen to go together and taking in her comments here and there about what Lyra preferred or didn’t. Lyra wasn’t much for fashion or shopping but she was glad to have the distraction of it, especially when it was a normal, mundane task.

After the talk a few nights before, Lyra had been so exhausted and overwhelmed by it all that she had stayed in her room again, thinking and worrying and trying to work through all that they had told her. This world was so strange, so different and these people so old and powerful. It mad her wonder why on Earth that damned Book would want her here. She was no one, less then no one when compared to the High Lord and his family. 

Mor spent at least an hour going over the clothes with her and after helped her put away those that she had decided to keep. She dragged the others to through the door, taking them to wherever Feyre’s clothes were kept. She promised to bring more of what she liked back with her. Lyra had just sputtered that she had gotten her plenty. 

“I was thinking,” Mor said, stopping in the doorway and tilting her head at her, those blonde waves falling over her shoulders. “You don’t have to go into the city, but you can come to the townhouse. The House of Wind is so big and stuffy, I think you would like it better there. It’s smaller, homier.”

Lyra shifted nervously, chewing her lip. She was right, this house was stuffy and it was too big. But it was something she knew. Familiar in this strange world. Mor picked up on her hesitation because she gave her a soft look and said, “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it.”

Lyra nodded, promising her that she would. That was enough for Mor, who beamed at her before heading down the hall, bags in hand. 

She ventured out of her room after changing into one of her new outfits, putting on a breezy shirt and some leggings. She mulled over Mor’s offer as she moved through the hallways toward the dinging room. She walked cautiously toward the balcony there, taking in the beautiful blue sky and smelled the air. 

She stopped in the doorway, only a sliver of mountain and water visible of the city below. She hadn’t gone to look at it yet, too scared to see this foreign world she now dwelled in. 

She sucked in a breath when she took a couple steps out, nails digging into her palm, but not as hard as she usually did. Took a couple deep breathes and appreciated the sun and breeze on her skin. More and more steps until she grabbed the railing, her heart pumping madly in her chest. 

It was beautiful, the city. Colorful and bright and filled with people. It wasn’t like any she had ever seen. Staring down at it, the expanse of it took her breath away.

“The view is even better at night.”

Lyra jumped, gasping as she found Azriel behind her, those wings splayed and shadows dancing around his throat and fingers. His lips twitched at her surprised look, a bit of amusement flickering in his amber eyes. She gave him a glare as he came closer to look over the balcony with her.

“I could of fallen over the edge or something.” She muttered, her heart rate beginning to return to normal slowly. 

“It is good I can fly then.” He answered dryly, surprising her with the flash of humor. She gave him another glare in return, which he met with his usual cool look. “You have not seen it yet?”

She had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

“No. It’s beautiful.” She said and he nodded, something going soft in his gaze as he looked down. “Velaris, right?”

“Yes. The City of Starlight.”

“Fitting, for somewhere in a Night Court.” She said, leaning back and letting out a sigh. “Where is the townhouse?”

He raised a brow at the question but lifted a hand to point toward a part of the city, the sun glinting off the blue stone that was on his scarred hand. It wasn’t a busy, packed part of town, which Lyra was glad about. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she did go. “Do you wish to go there?” Azriel asked, glancing at her.

“Mor said I should visit. Get out of here a bit.” She muttered and she hated how nervous she sounded at the prospect. She had made such progress from what had happened years before and now she was back in that place, scared and fearful of everything. She hated it. She hated what this change and being brought here had done to her. 

She didn’t want to go back to that, that place of fear and anger. She couldn’t. 

_You are stronger than this. You can do this._

“I’d like to go. Maybe not to the city yet. I can still… feel everyone.” She muttered, though she cringed at the words and how odd they sounded. “Ugh, that sound so weird.”

“It’s not.” Azriel answered, his voice cool and lined with that gentle kindness of his. “The shadows… they allow me to see and hear things I shouldn’t. Shadowsingers are so rare, I didn’t understand what was happening when they first came.”

“They speak to you?” She asked curiously, watching as one of those shadows ran along his shoulder, drifting toward her and lifting, as though peering at her. It reminded her briefly of the dream from before the night she was pulled here, that figure… _him_ standing in the distance, pulling her as shadows churned around him.

“Yes.” Azriel answered, going a bit still as the tendrils moved closer to her. She watched it dance, seeming to sway with the breeze and before she thought about what she was doing, she reached a hand toward it. Her fingers ran along it, watching in fascination as it breezed along her skin, feeling oddly like a caress as it twirled between her fingers and then blew out completely. 

When it dissipated, she blinked, blushing as she realized what she had done. “Sorry.” She muttered, realizing from the way he had stilled, his eyes wide, that she may have done something wrong.

“It’s… fine.” He said, something odd in his voice. The other shadows had lightened after the one disappeared, seeming to fade with it. His amber eyes stared at her hand, confusion shining as his wings flared slightly. What had those shadows whispered to him then, as her hand touched it? Had it sensed something, that power she supposedly held now? Was he disturbed by it?

The thought made something inside her wilt.

“Sorry.” She repeated, before backing up a step. The movement seemed to break him from whatever trance he was in and he blinked, that cool, unreadable mask falling back into place. “I’m going to head back to my room. Tell Mor I’ll come if you see her first.”

“I… will.” He said. She turned, heading back inside, a sort of hollow pain filling her chest as she felt his eyes still on her. 

* * *

Even hours later, he felt that shiver, the feeling of her hand brushing up against his shadows. He could still hear the whispers, the way they sighed as they ran along her skin. He had never experienced anything like it in the 500 years of his existence. He had never seen them disappear completely. 

“… another week or so, I’d say you will be healed completely.”

Azriel forced himself to focus as Madja spoke, running her wrinkled hands over the barely there wound. The glow of her hand dimmed before she patted his shoulder, smiling at him. Rhysand stood behind her, his violet eyes dark as they surveyed the healing wound. Azriel quickly put his shirt on, knowing where Rhysand’s mind was going too. He knew his brother blamed himself for the injuries, for how everything had gone that night. He always took to much onto himself.

“Since it is almost healed-“

“Almost isn’t completely.” Rhysand said immediately, the tone of his voice giving no room for discussion. Madja gave him a sympathetic smile, her wrinkled face knowing as she squeezed his shoulder again.

“Lord Rhysand is right. You will not be completely ready until that wound is healed.” She said and he tried to push down the anger that the words filled him with. It was not Madja’s fault, he knew that. She was only doing as she thought was best. It wasn’t Rhysand’s either. 

It was Jurian’s. And Hybern’s. He would see them both dead. 

“I will come again next week to see to you and Lord Cassian.” Madja said before nodding toward the salve she left on the table next to his bed. “Continue to put that on at least twice a day and do not push yourself.”

He bowed his head to her, muttering a low ‘thank you’ as she moved past Rhysand and squeezed his arm as well before leaving. Azriel glared at the ground as the door clicked shut, his wings tucking in tight. 

“I am quite fine at doing it myself, brother. I’m trying not to be offended at how little faith you have in me.” Rhysand said, though the lightness in his words did not meet his eyes. 

“It is not your job.” He said, his teeth flashing as he dug his fingers into the mattress. Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his blue-black hair. 

“Your job now is to heal.” Rhysand said, his voice firm, unmoving. Azriel merely snarled at him and his brother just smiled, knowing the anger wasn’t actually directed at him. “It is probably best you stay here a while longer. Lyra seems comfortable around you.”

Azriel stilled, smoothing his face as his brothers cunning eyes turned on him. He could see, could almost feel his brother trying to read his reaction to the words. He was about as subtle as Cassian. “She has taken to Mor.” He said, meeting Rhysand’s gaze with his own blank stare. “Mor can keep her company, if that is what worries you.”

Rhysand laughed, shaking his head at his sidestep. “Mor did not nearly rip my head off the other night.”

Despite himself, he shifted and he knew Rhysand immediately saw his discomfort. His lip quirked up, those violet eyes flashing as he tilted his head. Azriel wanted to growl again, but he knew it would only amuse his brother further. “You are protective of her.” Rhysand said carefully. 

“She is still unsure. I did not wish to see her pushed.” Azriel said, turning a cold glare on him. Rhysand met it, his eyebrows raising. But Azriel did not wish to discuss the way he was drawn to the foreign female. The connection he had with her from the moment that spell took set him on edge, scared him in ways he didn’t understand. And the way his shadows had reacted…

“I felt… attachment to Feyre even before the mating bond was in place.” Rhysand pushed. Azriel froze completely then, wings flaring when he met his brothers gaze. His eyes were kind, understanding but even so, Azriel felt anger bubble in his stomach. 

“Fascinating.” Azriel bit out, keeping his face neutral as he stared back at his brother. That icy anger grew in his stomach, splinting and cracking as it spread through his veins.

For his brother was voicing something he had not wanted to think about or face. 

What did it mean if Lyra was his mate? She was a stranger and despite their connection, no one to him. And even if he did become closer to her… who was to say the female would ever want him? Despite how he had rose due to his connection to Rhysand and his gifts, he was still a bastard and, in the end, what was he worth? He made a good enough spymaster, served his family in the best way he knew how, but he wasn’t sure what kind of mate he would ever be. Or what female would ever want him. 

Mor saw that. Saw that he wasn’t worthy of something deeper than friendship. 500 years and she had rejected any advancement he had ever put out toward her. She pushed him away, took other lovers in front of him, never let him in enough to ever become something more. 

_You are nothing and you will never be anything more, boy._

He looked away from Rhysand as his father’s words rang in his ears. It was one of his earliest memories of his father and it was one of the last things he had hissed at him after he had dug Truth Teller into his thigh all those years ago when he had extracted his revenge. He hated how often he still heard the words in his head, no matter how much he tried to block them out.

“There is no bond.” He insisted, forcing the thoughts of his father away, shoving them deep down. He made sure his voice was icy enough to tell his brother the conversation was done and to push no further. Rhysand always read him better than anyone else and in times like this, Azriel hate it.

He looked reluctant, like he had more words, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement that Azriel wished to end the conversation. “Well, Mor has demanded we have dinner at the townhouse tomorrow night. Lyra has agreed to leave the House.”

“Very well.” Azriel said, standing and flexing his wings a bit. At least his wing had fully healed, even if the one still grew stiff at times. 

“I’ll leave you to ask Cassian who he wishes to have carry him down.” Rhysand grinned, slapping him on the shoulder as he headed toward the door. Azriel snorted and followed him out, despite his still rocky mood, picturing the reaction of his brother at the prospect of having one of them carry him down from the house. Rhysand chuckled as well, clearly picturing the same thing as they headed toward the dining room. “I will see you then. Listen to Madja and do not push yourself.”

Azriel huffed, making Rhysand give him a sympathetic smile before heading toward the balcony. His wings appeared from that place he kept them, spreading and stretching. “I will you see soon, brother.”

He shot into the sky, leaving Azriel alone with his shadows, who grew and thickened when Rhysand completely disappeared from sight. He rubbed at his chest, that anger and pain still left over from the discussion. 

_You are nothing and you will never be anything more, boy._

His shadows hissed, twisting and thickening around him. The thing he hated most about his father’s words, even after all these centuries wasn’t even that it was _his_ words, but that he already knew the truth behind him. He was worth nothing. He had known that his whole existence. 

What female would want to be shackled to that? Lyra, who had suffered enough, did not deserve to have that connection forever trailing her. And Mor, somewhere deep down she saw that truth too. 

He spread his wings, shooting into the sky himself to head to the training ring above. He didn’t care about Madja or his brother’s warning to take it easy right now. He needed to hit something, before this pain and anger consumed him. The words still echoed in his head, repeating with each beat of his wings.

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor baby Az. It gets better for him, I promise. 
> 
> Thank you again to all those who commented and kudosed. I really appreciate the feedback! 
> 
> Until next time :)


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